


Malibu in Miniature

by StrikeLikeACobraKai



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Decisions, Bye Sid - it was not nice knowing you, Cars, Chocolate, Cooking, Engagement, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Food Porn, Forgiveness, Gardens, Haunted by the past, Healed Relationship, Kitchen Sex, Laura fix-it, Long Distance Relationships, Longing, Love, New Relationship, POV First Person, POV Johnny, Redemption, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sex and Chocolate, Sid not given any on-page action, True Love, making it work, more tags with each chapter, planning the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeLikeACobraKai/pseuds/StrikeLikeACobraKai
Summary: 1987.A series of unconnected fics/minifics, posted as chapters here, which follow on from Malibu.Ratings will vary down to G or T, and will be given in the chapter title, but overall posting is E, due to content in SOME chapters.Story 4/Chapter 5City LightsJohnny and Ali have to take the moments they can, when he comes to visit her in the Bay Area.Special moments can happen whenever you choose. They can even happen on the hood of a car, at night, looking down at the city lights below.(A Malibu companion-fic)
Relationships: Johnny Lawrence & Laura Lawrence, Johnny Lawrence/Ali Mills
Comments: 63
Kudos: 27
Collections: Malibu-niverse





	1. Melted Chocolate - [E]

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Malibu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590390) by [StrikeLikeACobraKai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeLikeACobraKai/pseuds/StrikeLikeACobraKai). 



> Well, well, well. Here we are again! The Malibu narrative is closed, but there are still many stories to tell about Johnny and Ali. That’s what I’ll be doing in this series. Most of them will be after the epilogue, but not all, and this one is actually from before the main story even ends, set during their three day stay, alone, at Ali’s house after chapter 16 :’)
> 
> I thought I’d get things started off with a bang (HA.), but I have _**very**_ different stories to tell in later additions, everything from romance to fluff to angst-with-a-happy-ending :) Not to say that there won’t be more like this one, sometime, maybe? <333
> 
> Each chapter will just be a minific, unconnected to the others, and they’ll get posted when I have them ready, whenever that is. I’ll post in chronological order for now, but, later on, when a story occurs to me in a time already covered, I’ll still write it and make it clear where it fits by using dates :)
> 
> Hope you like this one! XD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Melted Chocolate**  
>  Johnny and Ali have just gotten back together at Jimmy’s party, and they’re staying at Ali’s house, while her parents are away skiing. One day, things get pretty hot in the kitchen.

**January 3 rd, 1987**

“Where the fuck is it, then?”

Ali laughs, and keeps stirring the chocolate while it melts into the butter in the saucepan. “Like I said, in the drawers. Second one down.”

I’m behind her, at the other counter, and I pull out something long and made of steel, and hold it up to her hopefully.

“No,” she says, rolling her eyes like I’m hopeless. She turns the heat off and comes back over to where everything else is set out to make the mousse. “That’s a whisk. We need an egg beater.”

“Why?” I say, and I realise I sound childish with how I said it, but anyone could see you could use that thing to beat eggs. I can almost swear that I’ve seen it happen at my house.

But Ali is assertive, ignoring my objection. “It’s got two sets of loops, a crank, and a handle up the top. You really can’t miss it.

I mutter something and keep looking, eventually seeing something that could be it, although there’s so much shit tangled up that I have to take half of it out of the drawer to get at it.

“Is this it?” I ask, once I succeed.

“That’s the one. Here.” She’s reading over the recipe she’s got propped up on the stand to her right, and sliding the egg carton to me. “We need three of these separated into whites and yolks.”

I stare patiently at her until she looks at me because I haven’t moved yet, and then she laughs.

“Never done that, huh?”

“I’ve cooked an egg,” I say defensively.

“Well, that won’t help us. We’re not cooking these.”

She picks one of them up and cracks it gently on the edge of the bowl and I watch as she opens the shell into halves, like they come that way ready-prepared or something. She pours the yolk from one half to the other. The rest of it drips down into the Tupperware bowl underneath, and then she drops the yolk into a different bowl.

“It’s not that hard,” she says, when she sees my face. “Come on, give it a try. If you get it wrong, we have a whole dozen here.”

Ali’s gone back to the stove to make sure the chocolate is fully melted, and she’s taking it off the warmth, so luckily she doesn’t see the bad attempt I make on the first egg.

Fortunately, I’d _expected_ a learning curve, so I wasn’t holding it over either of the bowls that we need, when it disintegrated in my hands.

“Fuck.”

I hear her laugh, but I’ve hidden the remains by getting it into the garbage disposal before she comes back to the counter with the chocolate. It swirls as she puts it down next to us, all dark and silken and shiny looking, and it smells so good I’m wondering if I could just suggest we drink it.

I do much better with egg number two.

“That’s it,” Ali tells me, and with her reminders of technique for the separating, I finish the one and start the next.

She adds, “Those hands of yours are pretty good at picking up delicate work when they need to.”

I shoot her a smile, and hers is naughty.

“What do I do now?”

“How about you whisk the yolks?”

I looked at her, slightly pained. “You mean with the thing you told me we didn’t need?”

She grins and picks up the beater. “Yes, and I’ll use this. I’ve got to do the cream and the whites. Then we’re just about ready to add everything together.”

I glance sceptically at the various bowls across the countertop. “Would it work if we just did that from the start? This seems like a lot of effort just to make mousse.”

“It’s the best mousse you’ll ever eat, and we’re nearly there. This is how to get air into it.”

She measures out a scoop of sugar and puts that in with the egg whites and then starts working on them.

I use the whisk with a reasonable amount of confidence, since I’ve made scrambled eggs before, but Ali is doing some kind of sorcery over there, because she has turned clear runny gunk into white cotton candy, or bath foam, somehow.

She blows her hair out of her eyes and starts on the cream bowl.

It’s not long until the cream starts to stand up like white waves, frozen in time, and she taps the beater on the side of the bowl to free the cream trapped in the loops. She pushes the bowl in front of me.

“What you’re gonna do is fold the yolks into here.”

“Which means?”

She smiles and hands me a spatula. “Go on, pour them in, and then just gently mix them through.”

She ends up taking my hand while we do it, holding over mine to show me the weird gentle scraping thing she wants me to do, but apparently exactly what she wanted has happened as the ingredients kind of mix in.

“Guess we’d better check if the chocolate is cool enough.”

She dips her finger into the melt and tastes it, smiling at me, and then the next thing I know, her finger is in my mouth with a second taste. My eyes roll in my head slightly, because chocolate is a weakness for me, and melted chocolate is fucking amazing.

I’m getting every taste of that from her skin, and her eyes are dancing as she watches me.

I’m disappointed when she takes her finger away, but pleased at the flush that is starting in her cheeks, that grows while I smirk at her.

“We uh…” she says, turning back to the counter and picking up handle of the chocolate pan. “We need to fold that into the yolks now.”

She’s darting a sideways glance at me, and I put the spatula down in the bowl.

“How about you finish up and I’ll watch you?” I say, and with two easy steps and I’m behind her. My hands come up either side of her on the edge of the counter.

She gives a small laugh and moves my bowl in front of her quickly, possibly knowing the window for finishing the mousse is closing, and I don’t think she wants the work we’ve done, or the food, to be wasted.

I move her hair off her neck so I can kiss her there inside the collar of her pale pink button up, down in the angle where her shoulder comes across. Ali’s so ticklish there, but she also _loves_ it. She squirms against me, trapped between my arms, laughing and trying to shrug me away, but that half-hearted act doesn’t fool me.

“Cut it out,” she begs.

“We both know you don’t want that,” I say against her skin, and I graze her with my teeth.

Her breathy sighs start, loud enough that I know I’m getting to her properly, and her body moves back against mine, where I’m starting to want her, and that only makes it more.

My determined Ali is still going with the mousse, which I can tell by the way her arms are moving, but I’ve lost track because there’s something far more tasty here than that. While I’m kissing her, I find that I can undo a few buttons on her shirt, enough that I can get my hand in there, and then I’m cupping her over her bra.

“Can’t you… can’t you wait just one more minute?” she says through a laugh.

“No, I can’t.”

I’m undoing the rest of her shirt, and feeling her perfect breasts, pushing forward into her body with mine.

She turns in my arms like silk, and then she’s holding a full spoon up to my mouth: a finished product of fluffy chocolate mousse.

“We need to get it into the fridge to set, but here, try this.”

She delicately places the spoon between my lips, and I make a sound of delight, looking at her helplessly.

I’m swallowing, licking my lips, and she’s watching me.

“Holy fuck, Ali. You _made_ that?”

She grins and takes a spoon for herself. “ _We_ made it.”

“You’re being generous here.”

My eyes are pinned to the way she sucks on the spoon, the way she turns it over in her mouth to chase all of the mousse.

“You want more?” she asks me, reaching off to her side and dipping the spoon again, and she gives me this sultry pout that goes straight where she knows it will.

“Always.”

I’m lifting her up into some empty space on the steel countertop before she can object, and then licking the spoon again, and taking it out of her hand so I can kiss her.

Her hands are in my hair, and we’re sharing the chocolate taste in such an intoxicating kiss, that before I know it, I have opened her shirt wide and pulled the straps of her lacy white bra down off her shoulders.

We’re both reaching behind her to undo it, but I let her since she finds it first, and then we’re taking everything off of her so she’s sitting there like my goddess.

It’s too good a thought to resist, and so I take a swipe of chocolate with my thumb and place it onto her peak, watching to see if she minds, which she doesn’t, because she’s smiling slyly as my tongue gently takes it away again, my eyes on her as I circle her skin and mouth over her.

Ali moans a lingering sound to me, and it’s all I can do not to think of covering her whole body in chocolate now, and spending the rest of the afternoon licking it off.

I treat myself, and her, to the same thing again, while I find my way inside her skirt to touch her.

I can’t quite describe how it has felt the last two and a bit days, that while we have been living like lovers, by ourselves, that Ali sometimes has no underwear on, and every time I find that out for myself, it makes me consider throwing out every pair she owns so she can never wear them again.

She palms my head, my hair, as I keep licking her skin, and she’s rocking into my hand as I slip softly over her, starting to warm her up.

She gives me another taste of mousse from her finger, bringing it down to my mouth, and once I’m done there I’m kissing in between her breasts and down her body.

I can feel her stomach clenching, her hair falling on me as she leans forward over me, making those beautiful sounds, and I’m sucking her skin against my lips.

It takes me a few blind reaches to work out where the mousse is, but I find some, swipe some along below her ribs here, and then lift my finger up to her lips and she takes me inside up there while I begin to lick off the trail I have made all the way back down to her belly.

She’s moaning, sucking my finger, and it’s doing the best things to me, especially with how I have my fingers inside her here too, just how she likes.

I can tell she’s getting weaker, losing her grip with all the sensations, and I love doing this to her.

I gaze up to watch her joy, and say, “We’re gonna need some space, Ali.”

She’s pushing things away from us, from behind her, and I’m coming up to her mouth for another kiss. There’s chocolate on my shirt, on her body, in the taste of her tongue, and she starts to rub me through my cream pants, so I guess they’re done for, too.

“Why haven’t we done this before?” I demand in between kisses.

“We’ve had _two days_ …” she tries to protest.

“You think that’s some kind of excuse, do you?”

“Can I make it up to you somehow?”

I hum, pretending to consider. “I mean, you can _try_.”

She’s undoing me, and I’m getting ready to take her on the countertop, not for the first time actually, but it’s the first time while there’s been food, and chocolate everywhere.

I’ve brought both hands up to her chest, and I’m holding her there, because I can’t seem to stop wanting to do that, and she’s getting me going now, which she always seems to want to do even though I’ve never really thought about needing that before.

Ali’s so good at it she’s convinced me that I do.

It’s not too long before I’m breathing heavy into her mouth, my hands caressing that perfect skin I’m holding.

I take her kiss and her stroking until I start to feel like it will soon be hard to stop, and then I gently push back with my hands, so she has to lie down and let go of me.

I take one last spoon of the mousse and share it with her, me first, and holding it up for her to take as my mouth goes down to her, down where I make her lift up one leg so I can have the access I need to.

She calls her moan to the high ceiling above us, and I tuck my arm tight around her thigh as I kiss her beautiful silky softness.

I love the way Ali writhes when I go down on her, like she’s hard to contain under my touch, which I slide down her ribs, to her hip; love the way she bucks into my mouth if she forgets not to, the space I can feel opening between her back and the steel countertop, where she’s arching up into me.

I’ve made her come like this, and I’m still seeing it in the back of my brain, but I think we both have our favorite way for that to happen already, which is why I take her close, close, until her pelvis starts to lock up, before I lift away, and pull her body against me as I slide deep inside her.

I groan down at her, watching how sexy and messy she looks for me, my hands keeping her where I need her so that I can thrust into her again.

Her breasts move, and give me the sight that fills my dreams at night, and then I gaze down over her body while I'm moving inside her, all of it perfect, down past where her skirt is bunched up, down to where we are connected. My heat gathers together fully, knowing that she’s given herself to me as completely as I have to her.

I look up at her, desperate to say what I need to, although I won’t, I still won’t.

Instead my prayer comes out. “ _Ali…_ ”

“Need you,” she cries.

My release breaks and I start to fill her, and my mind takes off into the heights as I feel her squeezing, contracting around me.

Her sweet body welcomes me home.


	2. On the Rooftop - [soft T]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **On the Rooftop**
> 
> It’s six months after the events of Malibu. After a romantic dinner out in the city, Johnny has some big news to share with Ali.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for letting me know you liked Story One. Sorry for the delay posting! The Jimmy spin-off has been recently updated, and I’m working on Chapter 5 for that now. Other Malibu related goodies are also on the way to posting too.
> 
> If you’re reading this as a non-Malibu reader (which will lesson the experience, but that’s up to you <3), it might be worth at least reading the Chapter 1 note on Malibu, about this Johnny in the Malibuniverse. He’s done a few years of hard work on himself emotionally, since ’84, and has spent the last year working hard at UC Irvine to redeem his dropping out, too. If you don’t understand that various background, it will affect your reading here. I guess it’s worth me also telling you that Johnny goes to college in LA, and Ali is up at Stanford, so they have a long-distance relationship during the semester.
> 
> Reminder that these stories are not necessarily sequential, but each is just a little snapshot of the future after Malibu :) Some future instalments will guest-star some Malibu characters, and even a new canon character too :) I hope you like this one!

**July 4 th, 1987**

Ali and I have been out to dinner tonight at our favorite hotel restaurant, and now we’re up in the rooftop garden, on top of the skyscraper, looking over Beverly Grove and down Santa Monica Boulevard.

The entire roof of the hotel is given over to this space. In one corner there’s a bar area, near where the elevator brings you up here. The bar has a few high, round tables, where some people are drinking and waiting for the fireworks. Around the edges of the roof are planter beds, and more of them are spaced across the middle in a kind of grid too, so you can walk among them on the astroturf. Every now and then, there’s a park bench where you can sit down.

Some people are on those, and others are standing up and talking, maybe twenty or so altogether, all dressed formally. Strands of lights, with little round blue globes dangling, hang between posts around the edge of the roof and near the bar.

There’s one side up here that has just a high railing over glass, so you can stand and look down at the city streets and lights all those stories below, and that’s where me and Ali are, at one end. We’re dressed up, basically as much as we could be, and Ali’s dark satin evening dress is absolutely gorgeous. She does it well, and I like to think of reasons why she has to dress like that just so I can admire her.

There isn’t anybody very near us, only one couple further along our railing, and a woman sitting on a bench a little way behind us. The bar is playing some quiet jazz, and I occasionally make out a word or two of someone’s conversation.

We’re looking down at the nearby streets, where the block party is still in full swing. There are some brightly-colored stalls, with floodlights shining up into the sky. The people are tiny, just a wash of red and blue and bright white. There are huge clutches of balloons in the three colours, and every now and then one of them breaks free, and makes its way slowly up into the sky until it’s out of the light and we can’t see it.

I can hear the sounds of the marching band, way in the distance, and it won’t be long until the fireworks start.

I’ve got my arm around Ali, and she’s nestled into me.

“Thank you for tonight,” she says warmly. “That was beautiful.”

“Sorry we couldn’t have champagne.”

“That’s okay.”

Ali’s playing with her pendant. Every time my attention goes there, it’s hard to not just stare, since she has most of her hair pinned up high tonight, and her neck and her collarbone look the way they do, so _delicate_ , and her necklace drops down to just the beginning of her cleavage, only the very hint of it, which is all her dress shows. Her tiny earrings sparkle, although not as much as her eyes do, and there’s no way in the world she could be more beautiful.

Ali adds, “I forgot about that, by the time your dessert came.”

I dig my fingers into her ribs enough that she shudders.

“I know you did,” I tease. “You’ll have to tell me how it tasted, so I know whether to order it again.”

Ali laughs. “Are you assuming you’ll get to try some then?”

“Well, maybe a _little?_ ”

“Hmm, maybe.”

She always does that when we go out. I’m quite sure she knows what she likes to eat, so why she won’t just order it herself is beyond me, but it’s quite common that my food will end up in front of Ali, and hers to me. I don’t really mind it; I got used to it quickly, and I like that it’s so predictably going to happen.

“I love this,” she says, sighing. “It’s so nice to be with you, and have time to do everything we want, together.”

“Tell me about it.”

“How was training yesterday?”

“Good. There are more classes over summer so we can get ready in the lead-up.”

“Are you nervous? It’s been, what two and a half years since your last tournament?”

“Yeah, I guess, just because I don’t know what it will be like. But I’m not too bad.”

Her arm slides around me and she pulls me closer and looks up at me. “You’re gonna do great.”

“You know I’m not gonna… win,” I say hesitantly. “It’s pretty much impossible to think I could.”

“You might not, this time. Don’t write it off, though. I’ve seen you.”

“I love you. Thank you for making this happen for me.”

“I didn’t, really, it’s all you, Johnny. You’re doing the work.”

I smile down at her. It’s been so good to be back. The dojo is great, and the sensei is very good, even if I don’t think I’m ready to let myself feel at home at one again. I’m not sure I need that right now. It’s more that it feels good to be learning, practicing my sport, having a goal to work at. That’s the part of it that is home for me, now. I still see the guys to train sometimes, too, and we have some fun with it, and that also feels great. Tommy’s got a dojo now, and I think some of the other guys are leaning toward starting somewhere, too.

“Why does everything go so well when you’re around, Ali? Karate, college…”

“Maybe I’m a good luck charm.”

I gaze between her eyes. “Maybe you are.”

She reaches up on her toes and kisses me, and we do that for a little while, her soft mouth yielding to me in our private space until I’m not even sure if anyone else is still up here.

I love the way her dress hugs lightly to her body. It’s so smooth under my fingers, and I’m playing over her hip, where I can feel the shape of it through the satin.

Ali tucks a wisp of hair behind her ear, fighting the breeze, and turns back to watch the party. The marching band has made it to the center of the activity now, and faint sounds of cheers and applause accompany the brassy anthem.

“It’ll be hard at the end of summer,” she says. “Maybe not as hard as last semester, since we’re used to it now. But maybe harder, since I _really_ don’t want to leave you.”

I don’t reply right away, trying to decide if it’s the right time to share my news.

A woman laughs from somewhere near the bar, and then a friend joins in, although the sounds are muted by the time they reach us.

I watch the band for a little while, watch the confetti being shot into the air in tiny bursts of red and blue. My heart is beating along definitely too fast, in case Ali thinks this is a stupid idea, or too much from me.

“What if… what if you didn’t have to?”

She gives a sad little smile. “Come on, Johnny, you know we don’t have a choice. We’ve both still got years to go, well, me more than you. Neither of us are going to give up.”

“I’m not talking about giving up. But I’ve had a letter this week, an acceptance. I haven’t replied yet.”

“What are you talking about?”

Here goes.

“I applied to transfer to USF. My GPA now, and the application I sent, and my letter, were apparently impressive enough. Since they’ve said yes.”

Ali’s eyes slowly go wide. “You… you want to move _up_ to me?”

“I… I can turn it down,” I say quickly. “It was just an idea. I know it’s a big deal, and maybe you don’t think it’s -”

“Johnny!” She’s smiling at me, and I think that means it’s okay.

“Yeah?”

“This is… I can’t believe you’ve done this without even telling me.” She’s starting to look fierce now, like I’m in the kind of trouble I like to be in.

“Didn’t want to get my hopes up, or yours, until I knew.”

Her eyes narrow. “You still could have told me you were thinking about it.”

I smile until she has no choice to as well, and she nudges into me.

“Far out,” she says, and it’s kind of a sigh. “That’s so great they accepted you. You’ve earned that. But… is it what you want? You’re gonna leave everything here behind. You’ve done two years already -”

“I know that,” I insist, “but _you’re_ what I want. I love Irvine, and I’m gonna miss my friends there, but I like the sound of this course better, and I’m getting credit, so I don’t have to start again. Being near you… I mean, there’s really no contest for me.”

“But what about karate?”

“You’re right. That’s a shame, but I haven’t been there that long. It’s been great; I’m sure can find somewhere to go.”

“And your mom? Everybody else?” Ali knows all the items on my list; of course she does. I’ve thought all of them through. After last winter with the guys, we won’t let things get how they did again, drifting apart.

“At the end of a short flight, as you know. This is what I want, Ali, as long as it’s what you want.”

She turns me around to face her so that she can hug me, and I can see the shine in her eyes before she buries her head in my chest.

“Yes, then, _yes_ … why haven’t you accepted already? Can we call them tonight?”

I laugh and stroke her hair. “We can give it a try. There’s a phone in the lobby.”

“We’ll come down here often?” Ali asks.

“Of course we will. We can work that out. I’ll be asking the guys up to us, too. And my other friends.”

“You know I’m still going to be up there for a long time?”

“Yes. Let’s not worry about that, yet. Once you’re finished…”

I realise I am getting way too ahead of myself there, so I stop.

Ali’s looking up at me, with her arms around my waist.

“Will you live on your campus?

“We can work that out, too. I have enough that I could get a small place, maybe halfway between us. You know, it would make it easier for the weekends.”

There are so many details to decide on. I’ve already told Mom, and she’s proud of me for choosing something she knows will make me happy.

“I still can’t believe you’ve done this.”

Ali just looks so happy right now, that I decide to go all in and tell her one more thing.

I hope I’m right, because it’s a big one.

“It’s not all I’ve done.”

There’s still the blissful smile. “I’m not sure if I can take any more.”

“Well, I’d like you to try, because I have to tell you. Or… ask you.”

I unwrap her arms, and slowly kneel down.

The way her eyes light up with more of that shine, I know I’m good to keep going. It makes my chest hurt in the best way, but so _much_ that it’s hard to bear.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the little box, opening it and holding it up to her.

“I know this is early, and we can wait as long as you want to, I don’t even care if it’s ten years…”

Ali glances at the ring, but looks right back to me, and she’s got a tremble in her jaw, even though she’s still smiling. I see a tear escape and run quickly down her cheek.

“But I need to know, Ali, will you marry me?”

Ali reaches out to hold my wrist, wrapping her hand around me. “Of course I will.”

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I love you. There’s nothing I want more than to marry you.”

Down on the street, I hear the sound of the fireworks starting, and the sky behind Ali fills with colored sparks.


	3. It's Never Too Late, Part 1/2 - [T]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3/Story 3  
>  **It's Never Too Late (1/2)**  
>  Laura and Johnny have lived with Sid for long, dark years. Now that Johnny’s moved out, he knows it’s even harder for his mom.
> 
> He wants to do something to change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (Part 1/2) is Johnny with Laura.
> 
> Ali will appear in the next chapter (Part 2/2), after the events of ‘On the Rooftop’ have occurred (see the relevant dates). Part 2 is a scene of Johnny, Ali and Laura all together.

**June 29th, 1987**

It’s summer holidays, and I’m outside with Mom.

We have a gardener who does a lot of the yard work: heavy pruning, digging, the lawns and those kind of things, but Mom’s always been into her flowers. She takes care of them herself. Her garden has been photographed for hobby magazines a few times, and it’s set out in different sections around our house, like themes, with big areas of lawn in between.

She spends a lot of time out here each week, sowing, planting, pruning, and whatever else it is that flower gardens need done to them. It’s also her space without Sid. He has that effect on us both: I’ve stayed here a little this summer, but the rest of the time with Ali or Bobby or Dutch, because I wanted to avoid him, too.

Sometimes when I’m here, I join Mom to spend time with her out of the house, helping her in the garden, where we know it will be just the two of us.

We’ve made it to the shrubs around the greenhouse. She keeps manicured rows of them along the outside of each long glass wall, and today I’ve been pushing the barrow along after her, while she uses shears to shape the row of mock orange. The shears seem to me to dwarf her fragile arms, which have her bulky garden gloves up past the wrist as it is.

The mock oranges are at the end of flowering, but their citrus scent is still strong, kinda potent and concentrated in the pile of dried petals she’s throwing in the barrow.

My USF letter came this morning, and I told Mom right away. She’s faking being totally overjoyed about it, but I’m not going to believe her that easily, and I still don’t know whether I should say yes to the offer or not.

I haven’t told Ali.

“You know I don’t need to go,” I say again. “Maybe it’s better if I don’t.”

Mom’s long hair falls in front of her eyes, and she straightens her white sun hat to get it back in place, the hat which always works its way loose when she bends over the shrubs. She gives me a meaningful smile, something a little sad in it, but mostly that I’m saying something she disagrees with, and that I need to listen to her.

“There’s nothing keeping you here, Johnny. Your future -”

“ _You’re_ here,” I say sharply.

“You won’t really be any further away, up there, not in travel time,” she insists. “You’ll come down, and we’ll see each other then.”

She moves behind the shrub she’s working on, and the mulch in the garden bed crunches under her boots. She starts cutting dead buds and tossing them over to the barrow. An occasional one misses her target, so I stoop to pick it up from the path.

“Will you… will you come up to me sometimes?”

“Sometimes,” she agrees. “If…”

She gives me a furtive guilty glance, which I absolutely hate. She should not be feeling guilty, when _he_ is the one who is a completely terrible human being. And I’m not even sure if he fits those last two words, if I’m honest.

“Yes,” I say, frustrated. “ _If.”_

She gives me the shortest pleading look, the slightest shrug of her small shoulders, like I’m attacking her with my words. I guess we’ve been having this conversation for years, first without words - for many years without words - but I’m done with that. I want more for her, now, better than how things are.

I just don’t know how to get it.

She quickly tries to cover it up. “I’m sure I’ll be able to come up, Johnny. He wants the best for us in his own way.”

I sigh heavily, glaring at the house, and trying to soften it before I look back at Mom.

“Please. I love you, but don’t ever say that to me again. It’s a pile of fucking bullshit.”

I am so, so close to adding, _and we both know it,_ but somehow I manage not to. That accusation would crush her, and she is already so crushed. I can’t bear it.

I see the way her eyes crease with anguish: it’s the way they always do when I make any reference to how things are, instead of letting her pretend it’s going along A-okay. I’ve known for at least a few years that this is all complete trash, although I was scared of him, too, when I lived here. It’s hard not to be.

When we _do_ talk about it, I usually let things let things drop around this point, or even well before, since I don’t know what else to do about it for her.

But now she looks a little more broken each time I see her, and I have the most horrible feeling it’s because I don’t live here anymore.

When I did, she at least could focus on bringing me up, keeping me as safe as she could, trying as hard as she could. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to live in a house with him by herself, all the ranting and raging and cruelty, the undermining and control, and general being an asshole in every single possible way.

Leaving her here makes me feel just about as guilty as anything I’ve ever done wrong.

I’ve thought more times than I can count that maybe I should just come back and live at home with Mom, so she won’t have to be alone with him, at least. I know all it will do is put us both in a holding pattern, put me back into the despair I felt for most of my life from being around him, from having to hear his words.

They get right into you, those do, like burrowing insects, and there’s nothing you can do to dislodge them. It doesn’t even matter how many years have passed since he said them: you might be doing something completely innocent and then you’ll hear his voice in your head, and you’ll have to fight the feeling that you’re a worthless piece of shit, and you always will be.

I’ve had two years of mostly freedom from it, and it has changed my life. But Mom’s still here, and I honestly don’t know if I can let her live with it any longer.

I follow her along the path as we cross past the opening to the greenhouse, the damp, earthy smells of the tropical plants and pond intensifying in the air. Mom moves to the row of sweet viburnum and looks for leaves and spent bud clusters on the young plants.

“It’s still going to feel strange,” I say. “Living in a different city to you.”

“It always does when children first leave home. But it’s the way of things.”

“Mom, you know how much I worry about you.”

She’s setting to work on the viburnum with enough focus that I know she’s using it as a tool to keep busy, that she’s uncomfortable. I _hate_ making her feel that way, but I also think it might be the only way to ever get anywhere about this.

“You don’t need to.”

“Really? And who will, then?”

“I’ll be okay, honey,” she says in this falsely light way, although the creases are back around her eyes. “I always am.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Johnny, don’t make this harder for me than it already is.” The tremor I hear in her voice nearly kills me, and it’s all I can do not to just step around and hug her, but I think she’ll probably burst into tears, and I’m not sure if that’s what she wants.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.”

“I don’t want to talk about that today. This should be a happy day. You’ve found a new opportunity, and you’ve earned it.”

She smiles hesitantly, and I nod.

“I’m so proud of you, honey. You’re making a bright future for yourself, and you have Ali.”

“It seems too good to be true,” I admit, and I feel myself glowing under her praise of me.

“You deserve every part of it, and a lot more.”

I smile at her, and take the small branch she throws over to me.

“I think maybe you _have_ to say that? Like, it’s a mom thing?”

She laughs lightly, and my heart starts to lift, because she looks happy, and not like she’s faking anything.

“It’s in the rulebook they give you, yes, but in my case, it happens to be true.”

“I guess I don’t get to be sure about that, though,” I tease.

She’s still smiling as she works. “No, you’re right. You’ll have to take my word for it that I am more impressed by you than any mother could expect to be of her child. You’ve brought yourself out of your past, and it’s entirely your doing.”

“I had help.”

“We _all_ need help. That doesn’t change anything. You’ve worked so hard at college since you went back, and now you have this PT training ahead of you -”

“Not yet, I don’t,” I cut in. “I’ve got to finish this new course first, to stay on the track to get in, but I have a shot at it.”

She smiles at me like the sun. “You’ll make it, Johnny. You’ve made up your mind, so I know you will. And at the same time, you’re going to go be near her, which I know you need to be. She’s your future.”

I feel a lump in my throat. “You’re not my past, Mom.”

“No, I’m not _only_ your past, but Ali is your future. Your life is, and _should_ be, with her. You love each other so much… you complete each other. You’re not going to make the same mistake I did and marry the wrong person.”

She frowns again all of a sudden, since she obviously didn’t mean to say that last part.

I gently put the barrow down and let go of the handles. She watches me as I come around to her, and I put one arm around her neck.

The shears fall down by her side and she pulls her hat off and leans against my chest with a sigh, so that I can hug her.

“You did your best,” I say softly.

This is definitely the furthest in the conversation we’ve ever got, and my stomach is a pit of anxiety and hope, roiling together.

She waits a little while to speak. “I didn’t. I could have done a lot better for both of us.”

“C’mon Mom…”

“No, Johnny. It’s about time you let me say it.”

I breathe out as quietly, and slowly as I can, trying to keep control of myself, my emotions, while she goes on:

“I wish I could go back, sometimes. Maybe a lot of the time.” She casts a fearful glance at the house.

“It’s too late for that,” I say. “And, you didn’t know what he was gonna be like.”

“No, but it’s been like it for a long time. I’ve been watching you Johnny, owning up to your mistakes. I’m never going to be able to tell you how proud I am of you for that.”

Mom looks up at me with her wet eyes, and I know mine are going to start, too, because I love her so much.

“Can you let me do it, too? You’ve made me realise that I can. That I should. That I want to.”

She’s pleading, waiting for my reply, so I nod and swallow thickly.

“I’m sorry, honey. A lot of what happened to you to make your life bad is my fault, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

Her arms tighten around me, and if it wasn’t for our sizes, it would be like she was trying to comfort me as she did a decade and more ago.

“ _I_ forgive you,” I tell her with everything I have, although it makes her sob, and makes me need to blink away the wetness. “You’re not him. It’s _his_ fault, Mom, not yours.”

She tips her head down onto my chest again, and now I’m hugging her as close as we have in long years. Her small voice says, “I let him into our lives.”

I rest my head onto hers, my chin sitting softly on her mussed hair. I have my opening. Now is my chance to show her it doesn’t have to be this way.

“So why is he still here, then?”


	4. It's Never Too Late, Part 2/2 - [T]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4/Story 3
> 
> **It's Never Too Late (2/2)**  
>  Laura and Johnny have lived with Sid for long, dark years. Now that Johnny’s moved out, he knows it’s even harder for his mom.
> 
> In Part 1 he decided to do something about it, and here is the aftermath to Johnny's conversation with Laura. Also a breakfast with Ali and Laura, after that memorable night on the rooftop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading these stories at the Mailbu story continues :)
> 
> This is Part two of this story. Part 1 was in Chapter 3. In between the two parts (timewise) was the night that Johnny proposed, in ‘On the Rooftop’. I posted them in this order because it felt right to follow the Johnny & Laura narrative consecutively.
> 
> I’m working on Chapter 5 at the moment, which takes place at the end of summer. After that, I will be rolling back time to tell a story from January, and one from April! I guess I’d better get writing those. Some of the various chapters will be very Johnny/Ali centred, while others are more about other things for Johnny that he has going on.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**July 5 th, 1987**

Mom and I haven’t brought up what we talked about last week, although she has taken to hugging me when she sees me, more than we usually do, and I like it.

I’ve said what I needed to, and I know she doesn’t regret it. I’ve forced myself to stay here for the whole week since. I endured him, managing to mostly avoid him by being out a lot, until he went away on set, and then I invited Ali to stay with us. That was two nights ago.

Last night, I asked her to marry me, and she said yes.

We haven’t told a soul yet, because Mom needs to be the first one to know.

We’re having breakfast together, the three of us, at home. We are sitting at the wrought iron table and chairs under the big oak tree, not far from where I was working with her when we had our big conversation. The shadow from the greenhouse is growing smaller, slowly creeping across the lawn as the sun climbs the sky. It’s going to be a hot day; already it’s getting warm, and the three of us are in shorts and t-shirts.

I announce, “Ali and I are going to go up for a day or two during the week.” I shoot Ali a glance, and she touches my knee briefly in encouragement, smiling. I guess I’m still finding it hard to believe I’m really moving. It’s happening.

“We’re going to start looking to see if we can find a place for me, or not,” I say, looking at Mom. “We were wondering if you’d like to come. I mean, you know I’m gonna need your name on my lease eventually, anyway.”

Mom smiles at us both and tops up our cups with more coffee from her decorated pot, like the kind you’d see at a fancy tea party.

“I wouldn’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t,” Ali tells her warmly. “Johnny could do with your help. He’s never done this before.”

“It’s been a long time since I have, too.”

Mom looks on the verge of saying something else; there’s a puzzled thought in her forehead I can see, but she waits a little long, her teaspoon held still over the sugar bowl, so Ali goes on:

“It’ll give you a chance to pick out your room, since you know you’re coming up to stay with him there.”

She says this in a firm voice, and my mom smiles down at her coffee cup as she stirs. I love the way Mom radiates peace when it’s just the three of us, and how well she and Ali get on. They always did, but this summer has been a chance for them to reconnect properly, and sometimes I think I can see my mom just at the beginning of viewing her as the daughter she never had.

She takes a sip, affectionate eyes on Ali. “Will you stay living in your sorority?”

Ali sighs lightly and takes another triangle of toast from the holder. “I haven’t decided what to do yet. It seems like it would be sudden to… you know…” Ali makes a small gesture, waving her hand at me. “Move in together…”

I suppress my smile when I see the way she chews the inside of her cheek. We haven’t shared our news yet. I’m not sure we’ve worked out how to, and I think it’s nice to build up to it. But I know what she’s thinking: moving in seems less sudden than getting _engaged._

“Well, maybe eventually?” Mom suggests.

Ali nods. “Definitely. I guess we’ll see how this semester goes. Johnny’s thinking of looking for somewhere between USF and me.”

“It’ll depend on money,” I add. “Since I need to make it last for a lot more time, now, with my study.”

“I can help you,” says my mom.

I fidget, not wanting to make things awkward due to Ali being here. I give my mom a look, and try not to be too hard with it. “You can’t, really, because he’ll know.”

Mom stares at the teaspoon she’s holding like she’s never seen it before, and then like in a daze, takes some more sugar into her cup from the small bowl. It’s like she’s forgotten she already did that. She slowly starts to stir, her eyes unfixed.

That puzzled frown shows up again, and her dreamy voice eventually says, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem any longer.”

Ali and I look at each other and I shrug, a little worried about Mom vagueing out on us, but she can be like this when she’s thinking about things. And it’s not like I can’t guess what she’s been thinking about, for the whole of the last week, most likely.

“Mom?”

She starts to smile, still in her dream, and places the teaspoon down.

“I’ll be able to help you as much as I want to.”

I lean forward and put my elbows on the table, forgetting the manners she’s taught me. “What are you talking about?”

She looks up at me, and the blankness washes away as this look of peace blooms on her tired face, until it lights her up completely.

“I’m leaving him.”

I stare, stunned, because I imagined she said words that clearly are not possible. “You’re…?”

“A little late, maybe thirteen years too late, but I’m doing it. Better late than never.”

I feel myself choking up again; I can’t stop it, although I can make sure it doesn’t show too much.

I can’t remember the last time I felt such unexpected relief in my whole _life_. She _listened_ to me. She heard me. She thought about it, and she wants to _do_ something about it. Somehow, she decided that she can still make the most of things, which I know she can.

It’s everything I have ever, ever wanted for her.

“ _Mom.”_

“I know, honey.”

Ali coughs gently, and I think she can sense how big this is for me, let alone my mom.

She comes in with, “I know it’s not my place to say, but the only thing I can think of is… congratulations.”

My mom breaks into a huge smile, gives a sudden, clear laugh. It takes her over for a moment, her small body trembling with it.

The way she _looks_ right now.

“Please say it, Ali. If I’ve ever had anything to celebrate, this is it.”

I’m grateful for the humor, because it’s pretty catching, and it heads me away from where my emotions were going instead.

All three of us are smiling, sitting back in our chairs, sharing this moment. I never thought it would happen: somehow, I’d never let myself really hope. But she’s free. She’s going to be _free._

That’s when I come back down to earth.

“Have you told him?”

Mom’s face closes down a little, and she looks away from me. “Not yet, but I will.”

“I want to be here,” I say immediately, and I feel Ali take my hand on my lap.

My mom asks, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

I stare at her steadily, just so she knows how serious I am. “I _think,_ that if you don’t let me, I’m going to be mad at you for a long time.”

I throw a little joke into my tone, trying to keep her spirits from falling far, but she also needs to know this is not negotiable.

“Well, I wouldn’t want that.”

*

It’s after we’ve cleared away the dishes and come back to sit together that my mom starts talking to us about my move again.

It’s getting quite warm now, although we’re in the shade of the tree.

Ali’s sitting and holding a bunch of camelias in her lap, that Mom cut for her, when Ali was admiring them earlier this morning. She still doesn’t have her ring on, but we’re going to be getting to that real soon now. Our announcement was delayed by my mom’s, and I couldn’t be more pleased that it happened.

“I’m so happy for you two,” Mom sighs, still not knowing what’s coming. “You should be together.”

I can’t be imagining it: her whole frame looks more at ease now, like someone is finally giving her enough space to live in, and I guess that’s her starting to dare to imagine what life she might be able to have, now.

Ali’s smiling at me, and I link our hands again, in between our seats. “I can’t believe I’m leaving LA. I’ve lived here all my life.”

“You’ll miss it,” Ali tells me. “Although I love it up there.”

“I already do, too. But it’ll be nice to start learning it as a local.”

Mom asks her, “You’ll keep Johnny working hard, won’t you?”

Ali’s face shines with pride at me. “I don’t need to. He’s got it covered.”

I lift her hand to my lips and leave a light kiss, since she should know she can take credit for some of my motivation.

“I’m so happy for you both,” Mom says, “with what you’re making of your lives, and for the way you’ve found each other again.”

“It’s never too late,” I say, looking over at her, a happiness in me so deep now, that that applies to her, too.

“It really isn’t.”

“We…” I pause, take a deep breath.

Ali’s fingers press in: she’s saying, _tell her._

I swallow and breathe in one more time before I begin. “We have something else to share with you. You’re the first person to hear, but I’ve asked Ali to marry me, and she said yes.”

There’s another smile, not so different from the first, and I don’t think I’ve seen my mom so happy in my whole life as she is today. A sad pang in me wonders how that’s fair, and why she had to have so many days not like this, but at least the shadow is passing now.

“It’s my turn to say congratulations.” She’s beaming at Ali, and she gets up from her seat right away and Ali lets me go and stands to be hugged.

“Thanks, Laura.”

I watch them embracing, see how tight Mom is hugging her. Ali still has the flowers in her grip, even with her arms around my mom. I hear the sound Mom makes before they both come away with bright eyes, too bright.

I don’t know what it is about women and wanting to cry all the time, but it’s hard to take, and I hate that I find it hard not to be affected by it when it’s one of these two, my two favorite women.

Harder still when Mom hugs me next, her arms tight around my middle, and me smiling at Ali over her head.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?” I say accusingly. “Isn’t this good news?”

“Don’t you dare,” Mom says. “I have one child, and he’s just told me he’s getting married, to the most beautiful girl I know. I’m allowed to be happy in any way I like.”

Ali chuckles, blushing under the compliment, and looking like exactly what my mom just called her.

I sigh heavily as Mom lets me go. “Alright, for today, I’ll allow it.”

“It’ll be for longer than that, I think,” Ali says, smiling at my mom. “Might as well get used to it.”

“You understand me so well,” Mom says, like they share a secret.

That could get worrying down the line with those two; I’ll have to keep an eye on them.

“Your parents?” Mom asks her.

“I will go and ask Mr Mills,” I say, “of course, but -”

Ali cuts in, rolling her eyes, “Like Dad will say no. He _loves_ you, and you know it. He’s going to be thrilled.”

Mom claps her hands together. “So, this means we have a wedding to plan.”

I grin at Ali and flick my eyebrows. She has _no_ idea what she’s in for, there, but I have no doubt she’ll more than hold her own.

*

It’s not easy for Mom over the next little while. Her announcement starts a war, but because I’m there, and because I have Mom to protect, I think I frighten him more than he ever knew I was capable of.

He leaves in a dark, vicious mood, and we change the locks. It’s not simple. The battle rages for some time with lawyers and more lawyers, menacing visits. Angry letters, demands and proposals.

But she’s got me in her corner, and Ali, and I think it helps her not to give up. She’s never going to have to live with him again, and our team makes sure she gets reparations for her suffering in the form of alimony to make anyone’s eyes water.

In the end, she gets to keep the house, too.


	5. City Lights - [E]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story 4/Chapter 5  
>  **City Lights**  
>  Johnny and Ali have to take the moments they can, when he comes to visit her in the Bay Area.  
> Special moments can happen whenever you choose. They can even happen on the hood of a car, at night, looking down at the city lights below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this story might be one that Malibu readers have been hoping for specifically.... so... enjoy!!! You have waited for some time, and I hope it works for you nicely <33333333
> 
> Within a few days, I hope to post my final chapter of JImmy's story too, A Match Made in Heaven

**January 23 rd, 1987**

I’m very late out of the terminal, so Ali’s at the kerb in her silver convertible. She looks impatient.

I throw my overnight bag into the back seat and jump into the front, while she raises her eyebrows and gives me a steady look.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “We had a delay getting off the airplane. We had to taxi to a different gate.”

She sighs. “Trust you to have a good excuse.”

“I’m happy to spend all weekend making it up to you...” I say with a hint of playfulness, because I know it will work.

She’s got her hand up on the steering wheel, the other about to start up the car, but I take her wrist. I see her fighting her smile and I shift across the seat, so I can reach to cup her face and turn her to me.

“Hey,” I murmur, staring into her eyes while the familiar feeling of my heart filling up starts. It’s like that every time I see her on Friday nights, after the days we spend away from each other.

“Where have you been all week?” she says, covering my hand. This is why I was nearly in trouble then: neither of us have patience for things that keep us apart for longer than we already are.

The car behind sounds the horn and we both ignore it; they can wait a few more seconds, for fuck’s sake.

“Away from you and hating it.”

Ali’s eyes flicker closed briefly, and she traces my fingers with hers. She’s smiling, but there’s the same sad tinge to it I feel. We shouldn’t have to say hello like this every single week, and the goodbye is even worse.

I lean in to kiss her, but she keeps it light, brief, leaving me needing a lot more of her. She hasn’t even come into my arms yet.

“Come on, we’d better go.”

“If you insist.”

She puts my hand on her knee and squeezes it before starting the car.

“Let’s get a quick bite to eat. And then there’s somewhere I wanna show you tonight.”

*

“I know the view isn’t as good as Inspiration Point was, but it’s a lot quieter here.”

Ali’s voice comes to me through the cool night air, through the dark, from where she is under my arm while we sit on the hood of her car and stare down at the city. We passed a couple radio towers on the drive up here, and there are more along the way, placed high up where they can send the strongest signals, I guess. She’s pulled us off the road down this little dirt lane, and it’s got a great view down over San Francisco from a bit of a distance, so you can see all of it.

I haven’t missed that Ali’s wearing a knee-length flared skirt and a button down, even though it’s still winter, and I doubt that thin little cardigan is doing much. Nothing Ali does is by accident, and I appreciate the lengths she goes to for me. I know exactly what she was thinking when she put those clothes on, because it’s what both of us are thinking on Friday nights, without fail so far.

“It’s beautiful.”

She sounds dreamy when she speaks. “It is, isn’t it?”

There’s a real light show on down there, and we can see the dark where the bay starts, can even see the bridge now I know what I’m looking for. I’m still finding it pretty new, interesting to be here, and I’m not sick of it yet. It’s nice, watching the night go by in this place where my Ali has come to live.

Ali rubs her arms and sighs. I draw her in closer, covering her arm with mine.

“So did you have a good day?”

“Not really,” I admit, “but the last hour and a half has been pretty awesome. Makes up for it.”

She smiles up at me, the moonlight finding her eyes and making them shine. It may as well be three years ago, us out parking in the hills somewhere.

It’s both a wonderful feeling, like, it makes me feel connected to my past with her, but also, there’s something about it that bothers me. We’re not kids now; I don’t want to have to sneak Ali around in the dark, or get into her room when the coast is clear. I want somewhere where we can be together as a couple and just relax.

She’s been getting me to fly into San Francisco, so we can go out on Friday nights, before we head back down to her campus. I fly home from down there. I’ve been sleeping in her room, getting away before dawn, but it’s crazy, and not to mention, I’m fucking _tired._ I need my weekends after a long week of working hard, homework and trying to catch up with people.

We can do better.

I’ve gotta make it so we can have our time to ourselves, enough to sleep, and a whole bunch of other things in a list, which might get longer once we have some space.

“So you like where I’ve brought you?”

“I like being here with you, just the two of us.”

She slips both arms around me, inside my leather jacket, and cuddles in close.

“It’s hard, Johnny.”

“I know it is.”

“I keep thinking… if we hadn’t broken up, maybe we wouldn’t be living in two different cities. We might’ve made different choices.”

I tuck her hair behind her ear. “Hey,” I say quietly. “Don’t think that way.”

She’s saying exactly what I’ve been going over too, and I don’t need to be reminded of my own regret right now.

“But then I think… we’re different now, and I don’t mean you and me. I mean _us.”_

I nod. “I know what you mean.”

It’s all so different now. There’s a steadiness in what we have that feels like something I can rely on. Like I know it’s still gonna be here in years, and years. It’s as intense as it ever was with her, but it’s also settled now, like there are no questions left for either one of us.

That’s how it feels for me, anyway, and I let myself dare to hope a little bit that Ali senses it too, even though it’s only been a few weeks. Because with the way she is with me, it’s just how it feels.

She asks, “Do you think we would have gotten here, to how it is now, if we’d never broken up the way we did?”

“I don’t wanna think about that, Ali. That kinda question drives me crazy.”

“Why?”

“ _Why?_ Because I wish I’d never lost you. I wish I hadn’t had two and a half years knowing I was never getting you back, and trying to work out how the fuck to make that okay, even as time kept going by and it still wasn’t.”

“But?”

“But… you know the ‘but’. It’s all the things we talked about on Jimmy’s deck. On the beach. Since then.”

She’s nodding. “The time in between changed us.”

“It has. I think… I think if I hadn’t have lost you, and found you again, I might not have ever realised what I have, and how important it is that I do my best to get it right.”

She gives me a sad smile and looks at my lips. “You do get it right. Okay, no more deep questions.”

“Good,” I say firmly, and she tightens her arms around me.

Ali’s cuddling in close enough to me that I know she’s cold and looking for my heat. I wonder if we should go, back to Stanford, back to where she stays, but I just don’t know if I _can_. I don’t know if I can lose our moment here and go be somewhere where we have to avoid other people, as usual.

Instead, I take my jacket off and put it around her shoulders.

“Hey, here.”

I see her eyes dancing, her hand up on the jacket front. “And now I really do feel like we’re back in high school.”

“Yeah?” I say while she slides her arms into the sleeves and shrugs it on. “And what comes next after this part?”

Ali gives a sly look and doesn’t answer. “You’re gonna freeze now.”

She’s right; I’m already feeling the night air on my bare arms.

I’m still watching her, waiting, thinking about what used to come next, my mind moving through some years-old memories.

“Worth it. Maybe you’ll keep me warm.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she says mysteriously and slips back under my arm again.

I hold her close and breathe in her hair, her coconut shampoo.

“Ali, I want this to be better… I don’t want to sneak around at night with you, almost as much as I don’t want to have to sneak into your room when we get there.”

“You wanna get a hotel?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m thinking.”

Ali’s face turns up to me. “So you want to get me alone for two nights? I wonder why.”

If she thinks she’s going to frighten me with that look, she’s wrong. “First of all - don’t forget the days, too. And you know exactly why.”

“Now you’re just making promises you won’t keep.”

She’s so beautiful it hurts. She always was, but it’s not just on the outside. There’s something about her for me that just makes me know: _this is it_. It’s Ali or it’s nobody, and I think I knew that before, during those two years, even when I was pretending I didn’t, since I thought she was gone forever. I know it now, and it’s a scary thing to realise at my age.

Or it _should_ be… but maybe it actually isn’t.

“I’ll keep them, tease. You’ll be lucky if I let you out of bed, once we get one to ourselves.”

“More promises.”

I tighten my arm to bring her closer. “Are you gonna make me fulfill my word right now, just to prove it?”

And there’s the seductive look that fills my dreams, and often my waking moments too, so that I can’t get it out of my head.

“Why do you think I drove us all the way up here?”

I let out a deep, happy breath. “I’m hoping it’s so I can do the kind of things that I think about all week.”

Ali smiles to herself and gets up on her knees. I cross my legs and she comes to sit on my lap, facing me with her legs each side of me.

I pull her in close, my hands at her lower back.

She holds my cheeks and finds my mouth, and I breathe with relief into her warm welcome. Her lips slip over mine, and she shows me how much she misses me, _wants_ me. When I find my way into her mouth, she returns my passion just as strongly, tightening her grip on me, a sound of need coming from her.

My hunger stirs quickly, and I kiss her deeply, hold her to me, my arms up under the jacket and circled around her back. I can feel the tension in her: her straight spine, her thighs tight at my hips, her hands holding me close.

“You really wanna do this here?”

She smiles a challenge at me, her eyes full of it. “Losing your nerve?”

Without another word and without breaking her gaze, I bring my fingers to her buttons of her pale pink button-down and start to undo them.

Ali bites her lip when I pull her shirt roughly open, not hiding my own need, how much my body wants her right now. I curl my fingers over the edge of the cups of her white bra, sliding inside the lace on both sides and then pull down.

I bring her perfect breasts out for myself, exposing her, letting the fabric bunch up underneath them. When I cover them with my hands, Ali closes her eyes and rocks into me with her head tipped back, leaning her weight onto my hands.

I close my lips around the centre of her soft throat and suck, and her hips rise again. She breathes out into the still night, moving on my lap and I lick her soft skin, taste a trace of whatever cream she uses. Even with my hands trying to warm her, cover her, I feel her skin harden under my palms. I’m gently squeezing her while I make love to her neck, listening to how she responds so I can see how hard she’d like me to touch her with my hands today, since it seems to vary.

I test out with my thumbs, brushing over once, and when Ali gives a quiet moan, I circle her, feeling her respond and tighten more. Her body is a picture of heaven with how those peaks stick out from her pure skin, her collarbone above, the shape of her stomach. I could enjoy her this way for hours: she’s so _fucking_ beautiful.

I need to make every piece of her mine and make sure she knows it.

I pull my jacket over one side of her to keep her warm, and kiss down to her chest, and over her full shape until I take her nipple inside my mouth, my body twinging hard at the sound she gives me. Her fingers rake through my hair, her eyes find me, staring down with heat, her lips parted.

“I want to spend all weekend tasting your body,” I whisper.

I use my tongue over her and she moans again and shifts forward, granting me better access.

“I don’t know that we can start that _here,”_ she manages, and I sigh against her skin.

“Only because I can feel how cold your legs are, I guess I’d better not take any more of your clothes off.”

She takes my hand and puts it inside her skirt, on the side of her thigh.

“I’m not _that_ cold…” she says invitingly, and she’s right. Her hot skin feels like it’s burning my hand, the higher she brings my touch.

She’s got some rounding here too, and some firmness, with her legs flexed as she sits over me, and I squeeze my fingers in, thinking of what it’s like when she has her thighs wrapped around my head. Her skirt is being pushed up a little, although I’m trying to keep her mostly covered, and it’s like a spiritual experience when my fingertips find the front of her panties.

I trace the cotton: warm, gorgeous, Ali’s energy, her desire for me.

I run my finger down along the center. Ali gets up on her knees, which forces me to unlock mine and stretch out. By the time I’ve got my hand inside her panties, touching how slick she is, how immaculate she feels when I slide my finger inside, she’s pushing on my shoulders, telling me what she wants.

I lean back on the windscreen and undo my jeans with one hand, wanting to touch her for as long as I can, loving how she’s pushing into it, breathing rapidly. Ali takes over on my jeans, and there’s that awesome feeling of when her hand first touches me.

She doesn’t hesitate to hold me, stroking me firmly, pulling my briefs down to reach.

“I can’t wait, tonight,” she says.

I nod, try to hold in some of my groan, take my hand away, and she moves to sit in place.

She holds me ready while I move her underwear aside, and she lowers down onto me, all the way home so that her body touches down on mine.

I sigh relief and bring Ali down to kiss me, my impatient hand behind her head. Our tongues mesh wildly as she starts to move over me, giving us what we need.

Once I know she’s not going to stop kissing me, I find her breasts again, bare inside the shirt and I caress them, warm them, feel them fill my palms with her movement.

My hands irresistibly find her hips next, because we both want it to be firm and deep tonight, needy, not holding back. I bring her down on me with each thrust from her, our sounds lost into the kiss we’re sharing, the cold forgotten entirely.

Sometimes she kisses my chin, or I find her neck again, or I gather her near so I can feel her body over mine, share our heat.

She’s gazes at me from close enough to kiss me, and I know she’s about to, looking like an angel. My angel.

I whisper, “ _Ali_ … I...” I swallow, realising I almost said it, but it’s close now. Maybe would be alright.

And then she says words that take my mind into peace, and yet awe, like she’s known all along.

Her lips come right near mine, her hot breath. “I said it first, last time. It’s your turn.”

Relief like rain is coming into me as I stare at her. “I wasn’t sure if you were ready… to hear that, yet.”

My Ali smiles at me, beautiful eyes like she sees nobody else in the world except me.

“I guess there’s only one way for you to find out.”

She moves forward on me once again, and it drags a groan from me, because she is just too perfect on me, she feels too good this way, every time.

My hand is back in her hair, touching the back of her neck.

“I love you… as much as I ever did before.”

She breaks my heart with her smile, with how her arms come around my neck, resting on my shoulders.

She tips her forehead against me.

“I love you. It’s going to be more than that, for me. Maybe it already is.”

“I _love_ you,” I tell her again, desperate for her kiss.

She gives it to me, right before I feel her body move on into that other place, feel her lose control in my arms, and I follow her into heaven.


End file.
